Sports Centre, Minamiashigara
27th February 1990
att. 4500
There is not much time, we must press forward.
A training montage opens ROAD and the sound cuts out so we can only see the pure visuals of things like Yoji Anjo hopping up and down on the spot and people exchanging money for the expensive-looking programmes for this particular entry, the 22nd, into the annals of shoot-style lore's wider chapter on UWF.
Uh actually a sidebar is it just me or are there a few more shoot-style appreciative twitter accounts these days? Not that I have one (I like all the fruits of the cultural, er, tree, particularly TOM's excellent poem about answering the door naked, anticipating the best, which is some proper ee cummings level shit) but I am heartened by all that do.
I digress. Here we go. Look, here's Yoshiaki Fujiwara making meticulous preparations and Kazuo Yamazaki getting mobbed by a sea of arms and the sound returns which indicates someone is cleverly aware that Maeda's goons are wise to people uploading this stuff and are attempting to bypass their cop techniques.
After the montage, a brief shot of the exterior of the building and the first flowering of the spring blossom, but not the customary segue to a parade of fighters (if WWE Raw opened with a parade of fighters, maybe, just maybe I would watch it, given that it at least demonstrated some kind of aesthetic value at the outset) but a small suited man in wire-framed spectacles.
I digress. Here we go. Look, here's Yoshiaki Fujiwara making meticulous preparations and Kazuo Yamazaki getting mobbed by a sea of arms and the sound returns which indicates someone is cleverly aware that Maeda's goons are wise to people uploading this stuff and are attempting to bypass their cop techniques.
After the montage, a brief shot of the exterior of the building and the first flowering of the spring blossom, but not the customary segue to a parade of fighters (if WWE Raw opened with a parade of fighters, maybe, just maybe I would watch it, given that it at least demonstrated some kind of aesthetic value at the outset) but a small suited man in wire-framed spectacles.
The man speaks with restraint about things that I have no idea. He appears to be some kind of front office flunky, but he does not appear to be selling a product or a future event. Rather, he seems grave, and given the amount of time afforded to him, it seems reasonably important.
A dissolve and then TRIUMPHANT PARPING and yes yes yes it is that UWF theme that everyone loves. Here they come sprinting to the ring! Kiyoshi Tamura is here and decidedly NOT DEAD from his thorough Maedaing some months ago, though I regret to inform all six of my readers that the crimson-trunked prince will not be appearing in any combat capacity this evening.
Neither will we see action from the lemon-trousered warrior Masakatsu Funaki, who is still crocked from an injury suffered mid-1989, though he is also made to dutifully stand mid-ring and enjoy the extended vamping that occurs about 2 minutes into the UWF theme. The parade indicates no foreigners and no new faces: just the original shoot-style six (Nakano, Miyato, Anjo, Yamazaki, Takada, Maeda) and two of the later joinees (Fujiwara and Suzuki). In what order will they be paired for our delectation?
Before we find out, Akira Maeda takes the mic. It's not quite the stirring battle speech these events typically call for. Yoshiaki Fujiwara looks genuinely upset behind him and the feeling is slowly accumulated that this show has an air of disquiet about it.
A dissolve and then TRIUMPHANT PARPING and yes yes yes it is that UWF theme that everyone loves. Here they come sprinting to the ring! Kiyoshi Tamura is here and decidedly NOT DEAD from his thorough Maedaing some months ago, though I regret to inform all six of my readers that the crimson-trunked prince will not be appearing in any combat capacity this evening.
Neither will we see action from the lemon-trousered warrior Masakatsu Funaki, who is still crocked from an injury suffered mid-1989, though he is also made to dutifully stand mid-ring and enjoy the extended vamping that occurs about 2 minutes into the UWF theme. The parade indicates no foreigners and no new faces: just the original shoot-style six (Nakano, Miyato, Anjo, Yamazaki, Takada, Maeda) and two of the later joinees (Fujiwara and Suzuki). In what order will they be paired for our delectation?
Before we find out, Akira Maeda takes the mic. It's not quite the stirring battle speech these events typically call for. Yoshiaki Fujiwara looks genuinely upset behind him and the feeling is slowly accumulated that this show has an air of disquiet about it.
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| it hurts to see it |
AAAAAAAAND here we go it transpires that the bloke in the glasses and Maeda have made long speeches as this show begins with a ten bell salute and tribute to a dead young man who appears on a portrait held by a family member in the front row. Not sure who it is.
Segunda Caida have an idea though and man this speaks of darkness:
He forgot to mention that Fujiwara grabs and hugs the picture of some kid (I assume some trainee who died in the UWF dojo) on the way out.
So that explains why Fujiwara is upset. And that's why Tamura is there: "we don't kill them all, honest." Someone get on the phone to Tsunehito Naito.
After this unexpected mortality-considering turn, we begin to wrestle.
First up is Tatsuo Nakano and Minoru Suzuki, who faced off at Midsummer Creation in the summer of 1989. Nakano won that fight, 7.35 of mayhem, continuing the rebirth of Nakano not as some guru of grappling but as a thuggish striker who walks through one punch to give you two.
Suzuki's whole 'thing' in 1990 is not quite as fleshed out as magnificently as it is in 2018: a coffee-drinking, sock-wearing, shop-owning age-defier who will laugh in your face before squeezing it off. But he's handsome and a Fujiwara trainee. And that sort of speaks loudly enough right now, in this world of low-key valour triumphing over vulgar shouting, to have survived the stretches of Murder Dad and to emerge smiling.
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| Minoru Suzuki |
What I mean with this Suzuki's thing not quite being down might actually just be my misinterpretation. He looks for all the world like a handsome young chap who the crowd respond warmly to, but he does heelish things that come naturally. Like here, before the bell rings. He takes his headband off and just throws it at Nakano, perhaps critiquing his moustache. Unfairly, in my book.
Suzuki wins an opening exchange of grapples and rides Nakano, slapping the back of his head. Weirdly the two seem to have reversed positions as workers: Thug Life Nakano is trying to do careful technical minatures while Catch Wrestling Scholar Suzuki throws slaps and knees and shit-talks whilst in a slightly bad position on the ground.
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| Tatsuo Nakano |
It is a strange decision for Nakano, given the amount of fire in his belly and how well the crowd responded to his great matches through the late part of 1989, to try and work like the Graeme Dott of shoot-style. But time and again he does it, slowing the pace right down, manacling Suzuki's upper half on the mat.
I think to make the submission part of shoot-style wrestling compelling you either have to have the techniques down to an astonishing degree of proficiency or be good at the gesturality of the enterprise. Suzuki has both, whereas Nakano doesn't quite have either. What I really respond to in Nakano's strike battles is the way that it feels undeniably real, inasmuch as it probably is. No selling required. He's often getting beaten up for real.
Suzuki starts to dominate on the ground as much as you'd expect and even on standing, Suzuki muscles Nakano over in an ogoshi. Nakano wriggles through and again stops the match dead in a chinlock and a side headlock, Suzuki battling away, slapping and stamping Nakano, and hitting a jumping knee that sees Nakano go wild with abandon and start finally throwing the kicks we all paid to see (I did not pay). Suzuki takes an 8 count and then brief uncounted powder as Nakano steams in before the referee is ready to let them go at it.
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| u fuckin wot? |
On resumption Nakano organically finds himself trapped between a standing Suzuki's groin, so Suzuki heaves him up and destroys him with a rough-looking piledriver that keeps Nakano down for a 9 count. Stomach-churning knees from Suzuki keep Nakano wobbled and then the ending - Suzuki throws a big dropkick on Nakano. When Suzuki stands up, Nakano uses the last of his might to hit a big flailing slap. Both go down for the count and neither make it up for a slightly dubious Double KO.
Not as good as their first one, but solid enough.
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| paging @CosmeTura |
- Miyato wins at Fighting Network Hakata in September 1988, scoring the first knockout win in UWF, in a decent match.
- A grinding 30 minute draw at Budokan for the Dynamism show that opened 1989.
- One month later at Fighting Base Tokushima, Anjo wins in a largely dreary affair because of long periods of unenlivening Miyato control.
And that's it. Other wrestlers have been introduced either permanently or fleetingly and as such this rivalry, not UWF's premier achievement, has been on ice for exactly one year to the day. Anjo and Miyato's fortunes have wavered but they meet again more-or-less where they were before: in the midcard, a long way from Maeda's throne.
Who will triumph in this rubber match for the ages? In a way that doesn't matter as much as the art does but there is plenty of that. Anjo does a nice soft suplex-type roll through into a submission that is just delightful. In fact, in the early running, when Anjo is on top there's this breezy-but-cool ha-ha-I'm-schooling-you vibe that is not at all hard to enjoy.
Miyato alternates between being a bit cheesy or a bit boring and inexpressive but perhaps that is just in comparison to other excellent shoot-stylists that just so happen to be his pioneering colleagues? I am not sure. Sometimes when Miyato is on I find myself wishing I was watching another era-appropriate wrestler (like idk Bobby Eaton?) but rarely-if-ever when Kazuo Yamazaki is on screen.
With respect these two do a little sequence that rings true to my junior judo days where neither competitor can 'grip up' satisfyingly leading the two to sort of spin around half-holding onto each other in a barely-controlled way. When it ends Miyato unleashes some kicks and reveals himself to be bust badly at the nose that I *think* he sustains getting his head too close in while performing a suplex.
Anjo gruffly takes Miyato over with an ogoshi and controls Miyato's arms up to a rope break. Anjo writhes free of an attempted Miyato ogoshi and resumes control with a sleeper that looks extra cool because Miyato is both grimacing and bleeding profusely.
In a scrappy and charged match, rope breaks and knockdowns are exchanged almost arbitrarily for a few middle minutes. Eventually Anjo powers through the final minutes, repeatedly dropping Miyato with a variety of kicks and knees to win by TKO. Everything both guys did was satisfying, but it was hard to detect a particular story here. It didn't feel like a deciding match in an eternal battle of midcard rivals. It just felt like a match. Maybe that's the point. I'm not above saying maybe I don't get everything about UWF.
Miyato alternates between being a bit cheesy or a bit boring and inexpressive but perhaps that is just in comparison to other excellent shoot-stylists that just so happen to be his pioneering colleagues? I am not sure. Sometimes when Miyato is on I find myself wishing I was watching another era-appropriate wrestler (like idk Bobby Eaton?) but rarely-if-ever when Kazuo Yamazaki is on screen.
With respect these two do a little sequence that rings true to my junior judo days where neither competitor can 'grip up' satisfyingly leading the two to sort of spin around half-holding onto each other in a barely-controlled way. When it ends Miyato unleashes some kicks and reveals himself to be bust badly at the nose that I *think* he sustains getting his head too close in while performing a suplex.
Anjo gruffly takes Miyato over with an ogoshi and controls Miyato's arms up to a rope break. Anjo writhes free of an attempted Miyato ogoshi and resumes control with a sleeper that looks extra cool because Miyato is both grimacing and bleeding profusely.
In a scrappy and charged match, rope breaks and knockdowns are exchanged almost arbitrarily for a few middle minutes. Eventually Anjo powers through the final minutes, repeatedly dropping Miyato with a variety of kicks and knees to win by TKO. Everything both guys did was satisfying, but it was hard to detect a particular story here. It didn't feel like a deciding match in an eternal battle of midcard rivals. It just felt like a match. Maybe that's the point. I'm not above saying maybe I don't get everything about UWF.
I should also point out that on this tape, aside from the long ceremony at the start, there are absolutely zero video packages. At least up to now. One match ends. The next one starts. What is next?
Well, if Suzuki-Nakano II and Anjo-Miyato IV didn't grab ya, how about Akira Maeda facing Kazuo Yamazaki for the fifth time? Okay, Maeda has beaten Yamazaki's ass like a drum every single time, but there's always a puncher's chance, right? Plus their matches tend to me pretty good. Their bouts on the first UWF show and the May History 2nd shows (fourth bout) are particularly strong examples of the UWF not-quite real realistic fake-fight paradox world we inhabit.
Well, if Suzuki-Nakano II and Anjo-Miyato IV didn't grab ya, how about Akira Maeda facing Kazuo Yamazaki for the fifth time? Okay, Maeda has beaten Yamazaki's ass like a drum every single time, but there's always a puncher's chance, right? Plus their matches tend to me pretty good. Their bouts on the first UWF show and the May History 2nd shows (fourth bout) are particularly strong examples of the UWF not-quite real realistic fake-fight paradox world we inhabit.
Yamazaki looks pensive ahead of the match, whilst Maeda looks cocky and imperial. They shake hands and the crowd are primed. Even feigned punches and pulled kicks get OOOOHs and UUUHHWAAAAHs.
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| I can beat him, I can beat him, I can beat him |
Yamazaki throws a nice middle kick to let Maeda know who he's in with. Problem is, Maeda knows. Maeda backs up, raising his knee as a guard, and then attempts an overhand slap that Yamazaki is wise to. The pair collapse together with Maeda taking the momentum, though the thrust and parry is foiled in the ropes.
A few minutes of speculative groundwork. Perhaps TK Scissors, an expert in matters ne waza, can illuminate whether Maeda is a good submission artist. Because if I were to call it one way or the other I would say possibly not. I mean, he could kick my ass in a grappling match, but there is more to it than that. On the other hand Yamazaki is a natural and it is his fluidity and foresight that seems to keep these low-key moments charged with some drama.
Maeda eventually barrels Yamazaki over with a German suplex that progresses nicely into kesa gatame, that underrated jewel in the groundwork armory. Yamazaki breaks though Maeda's earnestness about this technique is much as mine and he won't let go for an extra second or two on a rope break. When they stand again, Maeda continues to dominate for knockdown, swiftly followed by another one. Poor Kazuo can't catch a break.
Yamazaki goes on a weary charge, scoring big with a suplex. But Maeda has the landing scouted and comes back up for oxygen whilst twisting Yamazaki's knees in a leg hold. Yamazaki hits the ropes and throws a wheel kick and quickly gets into position to hit a knee bar of his own. Perhaps the tide is turning?
Nope. Maeda breaks at the ropes, ties up with Yamazaki, catches a kick, and turns into an instant Reverse Achilles Tendon for a quick and painful tap and 5-0 in the series between the two. A solid match though ultimately this show feels like one of the smaller ones where they go at 70% intensity. Which is still good.
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| what on earth did you come to expect? |
To round off our evening of sequels is the second time Yoshiaki Fujiwara and Nobuhiko Takada have met within these walls - but given their long history in New Japan and the original UWF that I am not going to look up right now I would wager this is at least the dozenth time these two men have shared a ring.
Their previous match was a stormer at Fighting Art in Nakajima just four months prior to this - a match in which Takada won, but in a controversial manner in which the referee called a knockdown, Fujiwara's fifth and final, when in fact he seemed to be momentarily stunned and still able to fight on. It was also a total classic.
Straight into this fairly major-seeming match we go with only the memories of Fujiwara's tears at the outset serving as any kind of aplomb. Fujiwara gets a clearly bigger cheer than company #2 Takada (about whom I have had some thoughts and discoveries that I will share at a later date) before the bell rings.
Fujiwara is straight-up dancing in there, his face a picture, trying to throw Takada off with an uncharacteristically goofy smile. The opening standing grapples go according to the form-book: Takada tries to hulk Fujiwara, who just about maintains parity with solid technique and balance.
At every turn Fujiwara is out-wrestling Takada, so the bigger man throws a frustrated slap that makes Fujiwara smile at a plan working. And when Takada finally stops Fujiwara in a leg entanglement of his own, Fujiwara goes extra calm and starts working some devilish magic to reverse the tide rather than mugging in earnest.
At times you start to think Fujiwara is the soul of this company to Maeda's face and brain. This match is just a one-man masterclass and Takada is the pupil being dragged along for the ride. All the charisma and interesting work is flowing from Fujiwara, whether he's fending off one of Takada's awkward lumbers forward or deploying his array of wily grapples on the offensive. Not that I dislike Takada; far from it, in fact.
It's not a match of extensive knockdowns and rope-breaks because Fujiwara knows escapes that don't deplete his rope break resources. Takada starts getting frustrated at how often he's swinging and missing, so he throws a wheel kick - and another! - but they both miss. Fujiwara calmly backs up, making the ring seemed ocean-sized, and grabs the outstretched leg of Takada mid-flight. The crowd go wild as Fujiwara just folds Takada over into a gruesome submission that Takada scoots away from.
Takada just gets madder and backs Fujiwara into the corner and throws all manner of big bombs with hands and legs. Fujiwara nearly catches one, but ultimately ends up on the mat locked in one of Takada's comparatively boring submissions that the crowd don't buy half as convincingly as any of Fujiwara's.
Fujiwara gets a massive cheer after dancing away from a Takada series of assaults. His dancing backs Takada up, seemingly bereft of ideas that might defeat this prematurely-geriatric masterpiece. In this moment of unknowing, Fujiwara decisively drops Takada for a count.
On resumption Fujiwara just keeps dancing! Never has a man so surly been so in his element. This pisses Takada off to degrees of extreme violence and soon our dancing man finds himself a kneeling-by-the-ropes-having-been-kicked man. The main event continues to deliver past the 20 minute mark, a moment marked by Fujiwara having his laces retied by the referee. Even if there is to be a screwy ending like last time then this is still a UWF match of note.
But the ending is clean as a whistle. Fujiwara traps Takada in a cross kneelock and Takada taps. Fujiwara mounts the turnbuckle and the crowd are ecstatic at his triumph. A super match.
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| welcome to the Yoshiaki Fujiwara Show |
Straight into this fairly major-seeming match we go with only the memories of Fujiwara's tears at the outset serving as any kind of aplomb. Fujiwara gets a clearly bigger cheer than company #2 Takada (about whom I have had some thoughts and discoveries that I will share at a later date) before the bell rings.
Fujiwara is straight-up dancing in there, his face a picture, trying to throw Takada off with an uncharacteristically goofy smile. The opening standing grapples go according to the form-book: Takada tries to hulk Fujiwara, who just about maintains parity with solid technique and balance.
At every turn Fujiwara is out-wrestling Takada, so the bigger man throws a frustrated slap that makes Fujiwara smile at a plan working. And when Takada finally stops Fujiwara in a leg entanglement of his own, Fujiwara goes extra calm and starts working some devilish magic to reverse the tide rather than mugging in earnest.
At times you start to think Fujiwara is the soul of this company to Maeda's face and brain. This match is just a one-man masterclass and Takada is the pupil being dragged along for the ride. All the charisma and interesting work is flowing from Fujiwara, whether he's fending off one of Takada's awkward lumbers forward or deploying his array of wily grapples on the offensive. Not that I dislike Takada; far from it, in fact.
It's not a match of extensive knockdowns and rope-breaks because Fujiwara knows escapes that don't deplete his rope break resources. Takada starts getting frustrated at how often he's swinging and missing, so he throws a wheel kick - and another! - but they both miss. Fujiwara calmly backs up, making the ring seemed ocean-sized, and grabs the outstretched leg of Takada mid-flight. The crowd go wild as Fujiwara just folds Takada over into a gruesome submission that Takada scoots away from.
Takada just gets madder and backs Fujiwara into the corner and throws all manner of big bombs with hands and legs. Fujiwara nearly catches one, but ultimately ends up on the mat locked in one of Takada's comparatively boring submissions that the crowd don't buy half as convincingly as any of Fujiwara's.
Fujiwara gets a massive cheer after dancing away from a Takada series of assaults. His dancing backs Takada up, seemingly bereft of ideas that might defeat this prematurely-geriatric masterpiece. In this moment of unknowing, Fujiwara decisively drops Takada for a count.
On resumption Fujiwara just keeps dancing! Never has a man so surly been so in his element. This pisses Takada off to degrees of extreme violence and soon our dancing man finds himself a kneeling-by-the-ropes-having-been-kicked man. The main event continues to deliver past the 20 minute mark, a moment marked by Fujiwara having his laces retied by the referee. Even if there is to be a screwy ending like last time then this is still a UWF match of note.
But the ending is clean as a whistle. Fujiwara traps Takada in a cross kneelock and Takada taps. Fujiwara mounts the turnbuckle and the crowd are ecstatic at his triumph. A super match.
But don't just take my word for it. Superduperplex reviewed this bout last year:
He's (Fujiwara - ed.) pretty great here as the wily veteran, hip-hopping Takada into a corner and blasting him with a headbutt, which serves as the real turning point in this match. Takada starts letting loose with the kicks, there are a couple of suplex throws from both sides, and the finish was pretty great, as Takada goes for one of his lame ass leglocks and Fujiwara counters with the cross kneebar and really cranks it in, sending Takada reeling, scrambling for the ropes and trying to peel Fujiwara off before finally tapping out. Fujiwara's post-match old man celebration is about as good as the match itself.
Fujiwara receives a large trophy. But his greatest reward is, on exiting the ring, marching over to the family with the portrait of the boy shown earlier and hugging it close to his chest, near to tears.
Who said this company was cerebral?
NEXT: a show from late 1990!
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